


Certainly Uncertain

by roseyruewritessometimes22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseyruewritessometimes22/pseuds/roseyruewritessometimes22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Arthur's First Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and he has a lot to live up to. For starters, his father expects him to be Gryffindor Quidditch captain the moment he steps foot on school grounds, not to mention that this year, Merlin Emrys will be starting at Hogwarts. The first child to ever be allowed the name 'Merlin' after the great wizard himself. But that stupid boy wont be much competition for the Arthur Pendragon. He just has to live up to his father's expectations, and become an even greater wizard than that awkward raven haired clutz. And Arthur is certainly uncertain if he's up to the task. pre-slash eventual Merthur</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is my first stab at publishing fanfiction. So...I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to comment and give feedback and such. uhh. Peace!  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Literally. Nothing. Not even the socks on my feet.

            Some believe it is Severus Snape that holds the most intimidating reputation at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

            Others would argue that no, it is in fact Minerva McGonagall—that old battle-axe—that keeps the students on their toes waiting for impending detention.

            And if you asked most first years, they would tell you that it is the towering half-giant Hagrid that they are most intimidated of. But after the first week into term that was usually corrected. One can only hold so much fear for a giant that coos so lovingly over the tiny animals he'd care for around the castle grounds.

            But if you asked Arthur Pendragon, he would inform you that all of the above speculations are wrong (well, except Hagrid and his creatures). He would tell you that you’d be bat crazy to fear people like that, when in fact the most terrifyingly intimidating being at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, is the Sorting Hat.

            He was a brave little bo— _man_ (he was in fact almost an entire 11 years old). He was a brave little man. But even he felt sick to his stomach as Professor McGonagall led the first years up the stone steps and down the long hallway to the great hall. The older students were already sitting at the long oak tables chatting away with their friends, though all of them took turns to stare a bit at the newcomers, and Arthur was certain some of them were making bets—actual money bets!--on which of the incoming students would get sorted into which houses.

            And Arthur _had_ to get into Gryffindor. He just did.

            He briefly remembered what had happened last year at Christmas break when his sister Morgana informed their father that a child of Uther Pendragon had _not_ been sorted into Gryffindor, that she proudly took place in Ravenclaw.

            Uther had immediately written the Headmaster and furiously demanded that his daughter be resorted. And the Headmaster happily came to the Pendragon estate—dubbed _Camelot_ by an overly-prideful Uther—to settle the matter in person.

            Arthur had sat with an ear pressed to the keyhole of his father's study door as he eagerly listened to their private conversation.

            _"Oh Uther, come now my boy." The Headmaster chuckled and the corners of his calm eyes crinkled as he popped an offered piece of cherry candy in his mouth, "the Sorting Hat is never wrong in these things. He has placed your daughter in the house that best suites her talents. All the children who have ever walked the halls of Hogwarts each have their own unique set of abilities—differing sets of abilities. Gryffindor are brave and without bravery the Wizarding World would not be standing today—but where would we be without those with Slytherin finesse? Ravenclawes are logical and have saved countless lives with their intellectual discoveries—but we would live in a much different world without Hufflepuff loyalty. They are all different, but wholly necessary." An old chair creaked as it was relieved of the Headmaster's weight. "Now, if that is settled I really must go—I've several other meetings to attend to."_

            _"Headmaster I must insist—"_

            _"Good day Uther."_

            _To Arthur's horror the door swung open and he nearly fell into the looming Headmaster._

            _"Ahh, how nice to finally meet you young Pendragon." The Headmaster had a hand on Arthur's shoulder, steadying the boy. "Arthur is it?" To which Arthur had dumbly nodded._

            That had been Arthur's first look at the mighty Albus Dumbledore. The man was tall and lean and almost as intimidating in stature as Hagrid. But he had an aura about him that put one at ease almost immediately, and Arthur liked that about the Headmaster—that this wizard, so powerful he could destroy probably anyone with the effort of batting an eye, could be so cheery and gentle.

            It was this gentle nature that Arthur was grateful for as he met eyes with the Headmaster who sat at the long table at the head of the great hall. The Headmaster smiled at him briefly as the young boy took a seat with the rest of the new students, and for a moment his concern waned.      

Until the Headmaster cleared his throat and the hall fell silent as he stood.  
       

    It felt like he'd been punched in the stomach and his nausea returned full force. Arthur's heart began pounding wildly in his chest and in the silence of the main hall he feared everyone could hear it. His palms became so slick with sweat that when he pulled them away from the table to clench them painfully tight in his lap there were wet marks left in their place, and he could feel his nails biting into his flesh.

            "Good evening everyone. Let us welcome back our teaching staff. Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Rolanda Hooch." A loud _whoop_ went up from several tables and Arthur assumed they were from members of the schools Quidditch teams. Once they quieted the Headmaster continued down the list of recurring staff, "…and finally, I must introduce our newest member of staff, Quirinus Quirrell, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

            The students clapped for the man who shakily rose to his feet and awkwardly nodded his head to the Headmaster.

            "I would also like to welcome back all of our returning students—it is wonderful to see you all well and I do hope your summer holidays were relaxing and enjoyable." The older students cheered in response."I also hope that amidst your leisure, you found time to devote to your summer homework." A collective groan came, even from Ravenclaw, and Arthur could see Morgana sharing a look with some of her friends as she leaned forward, across the table to speak closer to a dark skinned girl with curly brown hair—Guinevere he was sure her name was—probably making plans to finish up their homework together that evening.

            "And now, last, but most certainly not least, I would like to welcome our newcomers—our new first years. Let me be the first to say welcome to Hogwarts, may you lead many happy years here," everyone applauded and the Headmaster chuckled before adding, "…well, hopefully not _too_ many years." This earned him laughter from students and staff alike (even Severus Snape chuckled…darkly, but he chuckled).

            "Now." As that word alone, a high stool appeared and on top of it, the Sorting Hat. "I'll hand you over to Professor McGonagall for sorting. Professor, if you would." The Headmaster sat down and Professor McGonagall rose and went to stand beside the high stool and took the Sorting Hat in hand.

            "Hannah Abbott," the Professor called out. A little girl just a few seats behind Arthur stood and walked with short quick steps up to the stool and sat facing the rest of the students. She smiled and even _giggled_ when the sorting hat was placed on her head, and Arthur felt like running up and shaking the stupid girl. Didn't she know that that hat was about to decide her fate? Didn't she _know_ that the next words spoken in that hall were going to change her life forever? Live or die, sink or swim, Father's "so proud of you" or "wishes you never born"?

            "Huffle-puff!"

            Arthur clapped along with the other students and wild cheering went up from Hufflepuff table. The girl, Hannah, seemed pleased with the decision, so he guessed that was alright.            

            "Gawain Anderson."  
              
            Arthur perked up, he knew Gawain! His stomach tightened as his friend took a seat on the stool and the hat placed upon his head.

            "Grrrrrrrryffindor!"  
  
 _Yes!_ Arthur whooped and clapped loudly with the others as his friend ran to sit with his fellow Gryffindors. That meant ~~if~~ when he got sorted into Gryffindor he'd be with Gawain! As it was, the boy with long dark hair was already grinning like mad and giving Arthur a thumbs-up from where he sat.

            Percy and Lance had both been sorted into Ravenclaw. Leon into Slytherin. Elyan had been sorted into Gryffindor as well!  
             
            "Merlin Emrys."  
             
            The whole hall fell silent, and Arthur drew in a harsh breath.  
             
            Merlin Emrys was the _first_ and _only_ child allowed to be named after the great wizard himself. Some even believed he was in fact the reincarnation Merlin. Arthur could remember hearing his father speak with other parents about how insufferable it was that some nobody family—a family that wasn't even minor nobility had been given the privilege. He'd been met with the other parents quietly agreeing that it was infuriating but apparently the boy had been showing spurts of wild magic since he was in a crib. And his wild magic apparently pushed the word _wild_ to its very limits. There were stories that his mother hadn't experienced any pain in childbirth because his magic was so strong it could alleviate the pain and mend any damage done to her body throughout the process, and that he never cried from wet or hunger because his magic would summon mother's milk to his stomach and when the displeasure of soiled diapers arose they would instantly be cleansed. Then when he was a small child he'd stopped the collision of two trains with the wave of a hand, and once set fire to an entire forest to defeat the evil mountain trolls that lived within with no more than a thought.  
             
            That was ludicrous really, what mountain troll lived in a forest, that's what Arthur would like to know.  
             
            Ridiculous stories, Arthur thought, the boy before him looked anything but impressive.  
             
            Everyone watched with baited breath as the short, painfully skinny, too-pale, raven haired boy took his seat on the stool, his dopey blue eyes wide and Arthur almost felt that Merlin was just as nervous as he was. Be that as it may Arthur honest to God almost laughed as the Sorting Hat sat awkwardly atop the young boy's head, with his large protruding ears bending almost in half because the Hat had to be forced albeit roughly onto his head in order to stay on it.  
             
            The hall was silent as the Sorting Hat made its decision. Arthur almost rolled his eyes with how obvious the Heads of House excitement was, even Severus Snape eyed the boy appraisingly.  
             
            "Better be…SLYTHERIN!"  
             
            The loudest cheering of the night exploded from Slytherin table, and the awkward little boy grinned ear to ear as the hat was removed and he rushed forward to sit at his assigned table, taking a seat next to Leon who appeared shook Merlin's hand and patted him on the back. Severus Snape's mouth spread in to a wicked little smirk as he clapped politely and seemed to enjoy the silent envy rolling off the other Heads of House. Even McGonagall seemed a bit disappointed as she pursed her lips and cleared her throat.  
             
            "Arthur Pendragon."  
             
            Was it possible for all the blood to both drain from your face _and_ rush straight to your head at the same time? It was just his luck that he would be sorted _just after Merlin Emrys_.  
             
             It was no matter, he decided as he rose steadily to his feet and began walking calmly—in an almost stately manner, with head held high and shoulders squared arms lax at his sides— to the high stool. He was _going_ to be sorted into Gryffindor. He just _had_ to be.  
             
 _Ahh…Merlin Emrys_ and _a Pendragon in the same sorting…_ the Hat's voice crooned in his mind, _young Arthur. How lovely to meet you at last. Let's see where you belong, shall we?_  
             
             Arthur scoffed quietly, his father taught him to never let anyone feel that they have the upper hand. He mustn't let this _Hat_ think he's insecure. He knows exactly where he belongs. _Well, it's obvious isn't it? I'm a Pendragon. I most certainly belong in Gryffindor._  
             
            Oh. Do you now? You most certainly belong in Gryffindor?  
             
            That's right. So go on then. Do your job and sort me.  
             
            Very well then, young Pendragon. You most certainly belong in…  
             
             "Hufflepuff!"  
             
             While gleeful cheers went up from Hufflepuff table, Arthur Pendragon could not hear it over the roaring in his ears. His eyes went wide and he could see Morgana smirking and Guinevere giving him a look of sympathy, as if she knew the dire fate he'd been given.  
             
             He had the terrifying feeling that he would vomit, scream, pass out, wake to burst into tears, and _die_ , all in that particular order.  
             
             McGonagall's hands were at his back prompting him to get off the stool as she'd already removed the Sorting Hat. Arthur rushed to his feet and he felt his knees buckle and knew he was about to fall flat on his face, in front of the entire school. After being sorted into Hufflepuff. After being sorted into Hufflepuff, _after_ _Merlin "super-wizard" Emrys._  
             
            Arthur knew it with every part of him that he should have fallen.  
             
            But he didn't.  
             
            He felt like something…like some _one_ was holding him up.  
             
            But he was standing, utterly alone in front of the whole school. Standing tall, with the former stature he'd held, shoulders back, head held high even though it wasn't in him to stand like that, with the feeling of something warm and comforting wrapped around his entire body. But given a glance down he saw nothing, not even a haze of spell.  
             
            That warm and comforting something stayed wrapped tightly around him as he made his way to Hufflepuff table to sit with new faces he did not know.  
             
            And as he took his seat, his gaze met that of Merlin "super-wizard" Emrys.  
             
            His dopey blue eyes burning with gold.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you all so so much for the feedback on Chapter One it was all extremely wonderful and helpful! Time for Chapter Two! Merlin's POV! I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Again, I own nothing. This time I'm not even wearing socks.

Merlin slid between the cart overflowing with treats and the wall, trying to get around it. The woman pushing the cart smiled and Merlin returned it nodding to her as he murmured an “Excuse me ma’am,” before slipping past her and continuing down the hall trying still to find a place to sit (or hide). The train had been moving now for probably ten minutes. He’d ducked into a restroom as soon as he boarded to collect himself. He was about to interact with witches and wizards his own age and that was terrifying. The only person his age that could tolerate him was Will.

They’d cried and cried when Merlin got his Hogwarts letter, and Will hadn’t—the final evidence that Will was a Squib.

Merlin yelped as a hand shot out of a doorway and gripped his arm, yanking him into the compartment and pushing him into a seat.

Merlin stared wide-eyed at a girl just a little taller than himself. She had skin almost as pale as his own, and long dark hair, dark eyes staring down at him as if he were a challenge she had accepted.

“Morgana!” a gentle voice chided, and Merlin’s attention was drawn to another girl in the compartment. Dark skin, curly dark hair tightly bound in a blue ribbon. Her own dark eyes stared at the other girl in alarm. “Be careful! He’s only tiny!”

“Oh hush Gwen, you’re such a worry-wart,” Morgana snapped back, hands on hips as she never took her eyes off Merlin. “I saw you, you know.”

Merlin shook his head, and looked up at Morgana, confused, “I’m sorry?”

“Morgana, don’t be rude.” Gwen chided.

Morgana sighed, and then held out a hand to Merlin, “ _I_ am Morgana Pendragon.” She briskly shook his hand.

Gwen sat forward and extended a hand, shaking Merlin’s with more warmth and friendliness than Morgana had. And her smile was far less frightening. “My name is Guinevere Smith, but please do call me Gwen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Merlin Emrys,” Merlin said, smiling at the two of them nervously, “it’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Yes, yes we _know_ who you are,” Morgana groaned, “that’s not the _point_ you stupid boy. You’re going to get yourself in a lot of trouble if you’re not more careful.”

“Careful?” Merlin asked.

“ _Yes,_ ” Morgana stressed, sitting down and straightening out her robes, and Merlin noted the Ravenclaw crest on both the girls’ chests, Morgana smirked when she saw his gaze on her crest.

Merlin’s eyes snapped up from her crest and he smiled sheepishly.

“Awe look his ears are turning red that’s so cute!” Gwen cooed.

Morgana rolled her eyes, “Yes, precious. _Now_ ,” she leaned forward looking Merlin in the eyes, “you know what house _I’m_ in. Do you have any idea what house _you’ll_ end up in?”

Merlin blinked. “Uhh…well, no. No, not really. Though…”

“Yes?” Morgana prompted, albeit impatient.

“Errmm, I’m hoping that uhh, maybe I’d get int- into Slytherin—“

“Because Merlin himself was a Slytherin.”

Merlin nodded quietly, biting his lip.

“Oh then you most certainly _must_ be more careful,” Morgana said, “you’re going to get yourself _killed_.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide and his throat went dry. “W-w-what d’you mean?”

“As I said before, Merlin. I saw you before. At the train station,” she leaned in closer, and Merlin was unsure how she kept her seat and leaned in so close—she wasn’t _that_ incredibly tall was she, she seemed like she was only a second year or something. “And I saw who you were with.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed “And what does it matter who I was with?” he asked.

“I know what you are, Merlin Emrys. And you’d better _damn_ well make sure that I’m the _only_ one who figures it out because I’m far more…agreeable to certain ideas than others you’ll find at this school.” she said, “ _especially_ , in Slytherin.” Merlin paled.

“Morgana, you’re scaring him!” Gwen chastised as Merlin said:

“B-but it’s not like we were doing anything wrong—you couldn’t possibly tell—“

“Oh I could tell alright. I understand wanting to say good-bye but really was all of that PDA really necessary?”

And again, Merlin blushed, his ears burning bright red.

“Well it’s not like I could help it—“

“Well you’d _better_ learn to help it. Because if you _don’t_ —they’ll eat you alive.”

“We thought it was rather adorable,” Gwen commented reassuringly.

“Yes, Gwen dear,” Morgana sighed leaning back to rest her head on the other girls shoulder, “but we’re fabulous. And you’re in practically the same boat,” she said, kissing Gwen’s temple before sitting up straight, “you remember how awful last year was for you when everyone found out. Those snakes are still going to harass you this year and you know that—do you want poor Merlin here to suffer at their hands 24/7? Remember dear,” Morgana smirked, staring Merlin Emrys down, “he’s only tiny.”

* * *

To say that Merlin Emrys was nervous would be an understatement of the highest degree.

Merlin had always known he had magic—it was impossible for him not to as he’d been lifting furniture and sneaking treats out from under his mother’s nose since before he could walk.

But…well…being admitted to Hogwarts, and to have so many people already know his name before he had the chance to introduce himself. Well. That was nerve wracking.

Imagine having already given someone their first impression of you, without you actually having any control over what that impression is.

And then, they actually meet you, and you rarely met their expectations, let alone exceed them.

And now, imagine having that happen over and over again with millions of people.

The Merlin that finally presents a first impression, is already overshadowed by the Merlin impression that people already have.

Merlin knew the facts. He wasn’t impressive by a long shot. When people heard his name they expected to see someone with generations of golden coins (what _do_ they call the gold ones? Ships?) running through his veins, impressive stature, and powerful presence. And then there was the fact…

Oh. But that’s a secret.

And according to Morgana, he had to make sure that it _stayed_ a secret.

When his name was called, while he hated the silence because it meant everyone was looking at him, he was grateful for it. Because it meant that no one was saying anything.

He’d been introduced to a few witches and wizards on his way to Hogwarts, and each and every time he extended a hand and introduced himself as ‘Merlin Emrys’ he’d been greeted either with exuberance and borderline worship from few (which was terrible because what kind of narcissistic ass would actually enjoy _that_ ) or, the more prevalent greeting of “… _oh._ ” Oh. Oh you’re Merlin, the great wizard named after the great wizard? Well look at you in your tiny little almost-eleven year old body. You’re not that great are you?

Merlin felt absolutely sick as he took a seat on the stool. He hoped no one noticed, but he’d almost not been able to get up on the stupid thing, it was just too high. His mother assured him he would get a growth spurt soon enough, he couldn’t help but wish it had come before he’d been shipped off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And what was with all these robes? How did anyone get anything done in them?

Oh, and then came the _Hat_. That _stupid, stupid Hat._

Professor McGonagall had to push the hat down hard, pressing Merlin’s freakishly large ears so that they bent over to let the hat set on his head and stay there.

_Hello young Emrys. My how good it is to finally meet you. What a special night this is indeed._

Merlin blushed a bit wanting to correct the Hat but unsure if he should speak.

_Ahh, but I see you are a shy one then, and you do not believe your arrival at this school to be as special as I deem it. That is alright. You needn’t speak aloud to me Emrys I must enter your mind to read your heart and see where you most belong._

_What sense does that make? Read my mind so you can enter my heart? Why don’t we just tie you around our chests if you need our hearts—wouldn’t that make it easier to reach?_

_Not the most analytical of fellows are you? No, you can be very smart young Emrys but you’re not cut out for Ravenclaw, no not at all. You’ve bravery aplenty but…Gryffindor would not suit your needs either. I could place you in Hufflepuff. But no, you’re not one for pledging undying loyalty but to one. So then…what shall it be? I see your life experiences lend you more towards mischief yes? Lots of sneaking, lots of cunning to keep your secrets safe. And you have quite a few don’t you? Perhaps it would be best to keep you on your toes, and give you the tools to continue keeping your own counsel._

“Better be…” For an awful moment Merlin held his breath and he felt as if time had stopped and he would suffocate if it did not move forward. And then the Hat cried out, “SLYTHERIN!”

Merlin grinned. Slytherin! He’d gotten into Slytherin! The first Merlin himself had been in Slytherin that that had to count for something didn’t it? It means that maybe he had hope of living up to everyone’s expectations.

That was a thought that both pleased Merlin, and sent his stomach churning with anxiety.

Never the less he smiled brightly and hopped off the stool, relieved to have his sorting over and done with.

He rushed over to the table of still cheering Slytherins and went to join the other first years that had been sorted into the house.

“Hello there! Names Leon,” the boy with short, curly blond hair greeted him shaking his hand firmly and giving Merlin a friendly pat on the back.

“Merlin Emrys,” Merlin greeted him cheerfully, “pleasure to meet you.”

 “You as well,” Leon said as he smiled kindly. “Glad to have you.”

That, so far, seemed to be an upside to this whole thing. Everyone was kind to him. Mostly because they were sucking up and felt he was important—but small moments like these with Leon, who Merlin could tell wasn’t being anything but genuinely kind, that Merlin wrapped tightly around his heart. No one, other than Will, and his own mother of course, had ever genuinely been kind to him.

Oh man how he missed Will.

“Arthur Pendragon.”

Leon’s eyes snapped forward and Merlin followed his gaze to stare intently on a first year boy, with golden hair that lay flat and neat atop his head and deep blue eyes. He didn’t appear to be more than average size for his age, but he somehow made himself appear bigger than everyone around him.

The boy, Arthur, rose to his feet and walked—more like sauntered—up to the stool and in a swift, graceful motion was sitting on top of it, and the hat was placed on his head. He seemed to scoff quietly—to himself or the Hat, Merlin wasn’t sure.

And then.

“Hufflepuff!”

What happened next Merlin could never rightly explain.

He only heard the cheering from Hufflepuff table for a brief moment before all his senses were taken over. He’d been concentrating, studying the boy on the stool’s face as he’d been sorted.

Arthur’s face was now completely drained of color and his eyes looked frighteningly brimmed with tears.

And then Merlin wasn’t even in the great hall anymore.

_He didn’t know where he was, but he felt cold and wet and empty, and somehow he felt far larger than he had been just moments ago, but he’d never felt so small. He was sitting in damp earth on the side of a hill and that face he’d been so carefully attending to now lay against his chest looking up at him. His weight was heavy in Merlin’s shaking arms. It was Arthur, fully grown and dressed completely in armor._

_Armor that had failed him._

_In the arms of the man who had failed him._

_"Thank you,” Arthur said, tangling a gloved hand in Merlin’s hair._

_And then in an awful moment that hand slipped from raven locks of hair and fell limp. And blue eyes shut in life no longer to see day._

_And a blood curdling world-ending scream rose up in Merlin’s throat—_

“Hey? You feeling alright there mate?” Leon’s voice brought him back.

Merlin sat straight up and realized he was still in the great hall. And he clenched a hand tightly over his mouth because that God-awful scream felt trapped in his lungs.

Letting his hand fall from his lips he looked up at Arthur to see Professor McGonagall removing the Sorting Hat and gently prompting Arthur to stand.

And in that moment Merlin knew with everything in him that Arthur could not stand on his own. For just a split second it was like Merlin could feel Arthur’s knees buckling beneath him and without a moment’s thought Merlin’s eyes glowed gold and he was sending the most gentle of his magic to help Arthur stand. He reached inside himself, and withdrew the act of kindness Leon had shown him just moments before, and wove that feeling into his magic. And together, Arthur and Merlin made steady the way to Arthur’s lonely place at Hufflepuff table.

And then sharp fear rose in his chest when the other boy’s eyes met his still glowing ones. Everything in him screamed _Sorcerer! Treason! Arthur cannot know you have magic!_

And in the same moment, he knew for a fact that his feeling was purely fiction.

He was absolutely certain that Arthur would never—past, present, or future—do anything to harm Merlin because of his magic.

Ahh, that was nice, it was another moment of realization that Merlin could wrap tight around his heart to cherish.

And so Merlin held Arthur’s gaze for just a moment longer, eyes still aglow.

“I’m fine,” he quietly assured Leon who was giving both Merlin and Arthur concerned looks.

And then the Headmaster rose and announced the sorting over, and he feast began.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's Chapter 3! Arthur's POV of his first night in Hufflepuff. All descriptions of Hufflepuff entrance and common room are derived from Pottermore with a few personal twists I guess? Thanks again for all the reviews and Kudos, all the feedback is wonderful and helpful!
> 
> Again, I own nothing.

            Arthur Pendragon did not sulk, nor whine, nor did he pout.

            He brooded. Proudly. Like a man. With dignity.

            And he proudly brooded all the way to Hufflepuff’s common room, walking alongside his fellow first years, the older forms following behind them as the prefects led them to Hufflepuff.

            He refused to speak with anyone. He was not going to make friends with these… _people_. His father would have a fit. Most of them probably weren’t even Pureblood!

            _“I can’t decide which is worse—Half-Bloods or Muggle Borns.”_ Arthur remembered his father saying in confidence with uncle Agravain one night at a private family dinner.

            At least, that was always father’s opinion. So obviously it was right.

            Morgana had called Uther an ignorant pig and stomped away from the table—which probably further proved the elder Pendragon correct.

            Besides, in the midst of this rabble you couldn’t tell the difference between the Purebloods and the riff-raft.

            No, he was going to be so notably superior (rude) that they would have no choice but to resort him.

            He’d handle it himself and his father would never even have to know he’d been sorted into Hufflepuff in the first place.

            As long as he could keep Morgana quiet.

            Hmm…he’d have to find a hex for that.

            “Here we are,” the female prefect announced as they stopped in a corridor just a short distance from the kitchens. They stood before a stone arch carved into the tiny dead-end hall, with large barrels engraved with cartoonish images of a smiling badger.

            How quaint.

            “Please pay attention and try to memorize the pattern—though if you do have any issues please don’t hesitate to find me or any older Hufflepuff for assistance,” the male prefect—Mark? Marvin? Whatever his name was—said, “it helps if you hum along. Brigitte—if you would?”

            His fellow prefect smiled and nodded, making sure she was standing so what she did could be seen. She drew her wand began tapping the second barrel, that sat in the center as she hummed the tune of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’, taping out each note. As she finished, the large barrel lid swung outwards like a door, revealing itself as the entrance to Hufflepuff.

            Well that seemed easy enough.

            There was no way Arthur would hum though.

            He wouldn’t need to regardless—he was shortly to be resorted, he was sure of it.

            “Do be careful, mind,” Brigitte warned the first years, “anyone who taps the wrong barrel or taps it out incorrectly will get a rather nasty surprise. We may be sweet but we turn sour to intruders.”

            “What you are about to see has only been seen by fellow Hufflepuffs for the last one thousand years. No member of any other house has been allowed entry. Come along,” Michael? Mitchel? Oh who cares. The male one led them down a short, dark stairway.

            Arthur released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he stepped down into the Hufflepuff common room.

            The common room was light and airy—open. But at the same time it felt closed off and cozy, like a tiny burrow. A safe haven. It was low below the rest of the castle and Arthur couldn’t hear any noise coming from outside the common room walls. The common room itself was large and circular, with all different shades of bronze, gold, and dark woods decorating it. Flowers hung down from the ceilings and warm golden light came from homey darkly tinted yellow lamps that hung around the room, and the common room was filled with massive overstuffed couches and chairs—chairs so large that while you could sit in one alone, there was plenty of room for two or three students to sit close together in one of the seats. The floor was made entirely of an earthy stone that looked almost like powdered earth that, if you walked about barefoot, would coat the bottoms of your feet but not in a disgusting way—in an almost comforting safe way. Like how when one walks through an enclosed forest and their feet pad against earth and you feel safe. Richly ornate thick rugs could be found all across the floor and there were large fluffy pillows on all of the furniture and even strewn about the room on the floor in different places. Wide stone tunnels branched off of the common room in multiple places.

            And in the midst of it all stood a short, thickset woman. Her face was lined with age, curly grey hair tucked loosely under a pointed hat that’s warm yellow matched her robes in color and material—upon first glance Arthur thought the cloth would be scratchy but after a moments inspection he suspected it was actually rather soft, it just had a worn, earthy appearance.

            She smiled widely at all of her new students, her presence seemed glowing like she herself radiated kindness and affection for the little witches and wizards before her.

            “Good evening my dear new Hufflepuffs! I am Pomona Sprout—Professor of Herbology and your Head of House,” she said, her voice was warm and kind of scratchy sounding but not in an obnoxious way, just distinct. “Outside the security of our walls, I would ask that you please call me Professor, but within our home—and I do hope that soon you will all feel that Hufflepuff is your home—you may call me whatever makes you feel most comfortable, be it anything from Professor to—“

            She was cut off by an outcry from the older students.

            “Pom-may!”

            “Mama P!”

            “P-Dawg!”

            Arthur stood aghast that any Professor in their right mind would allow their students to behave this way. The Professor chuckled along with her students and breezily waved a hand in a gentle ‘hush’ motion. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” she said, “now, for the rest of the evening, you’re to relax and spend time getting to know each other. If you have siblings in other houses you’re more than welcome to go visit with them if you must, but do please take an older student with you—Hogwarts is a very large and mischievous school, the stairways and passageways enjoy misleading its students, and it takes some getting used to, though if you do become lost you can seek out our house ghost the Fat Friar, as he would be more than happy to assist you—and do be back before curfew. While you will be shown leniency due to the fact it is your first night here, I expect nothing less but the best from my Hufflepuffs.”

            Ah, right. Just like father.

            “The best that _you_ can possibly do. Give me that and I will always be proud.”

            Oh. Well then. Almost just like father.

            “Your prefects, Martin and Brigitte will show you to your dormitories. Boys will take the tunnels on the left, girls any of the tunnels on the right will lead you to your dorms. Boys cannot enter the girls’ dormitories unless invited, and vice versa. However,” the woman’s smile became softer and her voice held the utmost seriousness, “if you feel you have been incorrectly assigned a dormitory gender-wise, see me afterwards and I will set it right. Hogwarts is your home and it is to be a place you can learn to be exactly who you truly are. On that note—I will not tolerate any form of hate in or towards my House, nor towards another House. Please feel free to come to me if you have any issue. If I find that anyone has spread unkindness in my House they will be dealt with in the manner they most deserve.”

            She let that sink in for a moment before continuing.

            “Once you enter your dormitories you will find you have been assigned a bed. As long as you don’t start up a World War amongst yourselves, you may switch beds if you feel the need to, but I assure you they are all the same. Your trunks will be next to your beds, and you will find your crests on top of your trunks. Now, some houses make it so crests can be magically adhered to your robes—but in Hufflepuff house you must learn to rely on yourself or your fellow housemates. Therefore they must be sewn on by hand—by a fellow student. Any and all older Hufflepuffs have made it clear they are more than happy to assist any first year requiring assistance with their crests, you need only ask.”

            Arthur was most certainly _not._ How dare this woman treat students as if they were common servants? What decent wizard knew how to sew, anyway?

            “Your schedules will be delivered to you at breakfast tomorrow so for those of you unfamiliar with our mailing system, you will get a feel for how Owl Mail works. If you have any questions or concerns you may seek me out at any time. I will be found in the common room for the rest of this evening—if you need me during the evenings my quarters can be found by any student who enters any of the tunnels and asks for me. The tunnel will automatically lead you to my quarters and alert me that I am needed. My office is just there should you need me during the day between classes and meal times,” she gestured to a circular stone arch that was the entrance to a small nook that held a dark wooden desk, more overstuffed chairs and a few overflowing book shelves, “my office is warded so that no matter how close anyone stands to the entrance, nothing said inside my office can be heard. Anything said to me at any given time will be kept in total confidence. Feel free to approach me at any time of the day, and yes that does include meals. I do in fact try to make a habit of eating with any students who wish to share a meal with me at least once every term—for first years especially I like to take the time to get to know you. So let me know if you’re interested.”

            Oh _sweet Merlin_ this woman was annoying. Who would want to _willingly_ spend _more_ time with her? She’s too soft. Uther would never approve of the way she runs her house. ‘Be who you truly are’? And what was this rot about ‘if you feel you’ve been incorrectly placed in your dorms gender-wise’? You’re born a boy or a girl it’s as simple as that how could you get incorrectly placed? His father would have a complete mental breakdown if he knew Arthur had spent one minute in Hufflepuff.

            “Are you quite alright dear? Does there seem to be a problem?”

            Arthur’s head snapped up at the sound of Professor Sprout’s voice and he saw she was standing right in front of him, and that he was the only first year left in the common room. He didn’t quite hear it when the prefect (Mitch? Wasn’t it?) led the boys to their dorms, and the girls were gone too. There were only a few older students milling about the common room, many had gone on up to their dormitories to sort their things.

            Arthur stood up straighter, trying to make himself as big as possible before he cleared his throat and said, “Yes ma’am, I believe there is.”

            “Oh!” the Professor said, instantly concerned (Merlin above was this woman obnoxious), she placed a hand on Arthur’s back, “Come along then, let’s go into my office shall we?”

            Arthur could feel the warding as they passed through the arch and into Professor Sprout’s office.

            “Do have a seat dear, and tell me what’s troubling you,” the woman said. Arthur took a seat in one of the large overstuffed chairs. The Professor took a seat in the chair next to it instead of going to sit behind her desk.

            “I’ve been incorrectly sorted,” Arthur said clearly and precisely, hoping this conversation would be short and end with him being resorted into Gryffindor.

            “Ahh, I see,” the woman smiled gently and reached out to pat Arthur’s hand that rested on the arm of his chair, “not a problem at all.”

            Good. Thank the heavens.

            “Firstly sweetheart, what is your name? Arthur Pendragon isn’t it?”

            “Yes,” Arhtur nodded, pleased that he’d heard of him.

            “Do you wish to be called anything other than Arthur?”

            Arthur was silent for a moment, “W-I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

            “Oh not a problem dear—I simply mean do you have a more feminine name you would prefer to be called?”

            It took a few moments for something to click in his mind.

            Arthur paled and rose from his seat as he shouted indignantly, “ _What?!”_

            “Well sweetheart if you’ve been incorrectly placed that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” woman continued calmly,  “If you feel more comfortable as a girl than as a boy that is solely up to you I merely wish to understand what would best make you feel at home. So you like your name the way it is—I’ll have you transferred to the girls’ dormitory at once of course—but what about pronouns? Shall I inform your Professors to refer to you as female or would you rather do that at your own pace?”

            Arthur’s breathing came out in harsh labored breaths and his head was pounding in time with his heart and he felt as if someone had been sitting on his chest.

            “I most certainly am _NOT_ female! I am most certainly _male_!” he shouted when he could find his voice, “What in the _world_ is wrong with you!”

            Professor Sprout blinked for a moment, “Oh my. Are you certain? It’s alright if you are.”

             “Yes I am most certain!” Arthur snapped.

             “Very well then, there is no need to raise your voice, this is a simple misunderstanding.”

_Simple_ misunderstanding?!

              “I would ask that you sit down at once and cease your shouting. I apologize, but I don’t believe I quite understand what the issue is then. You said you were incorrectly sorted?”

              Arthur sat down hard in the chair and leaned forward as to be better heard by the older woman, “This House. I’ve been incorrectly sorted into this _House_.”

              “Oooh,” the Professor cleared her throat, “I see.”

              “Yes,” _Thank goodness,_ Arthur thought. “You see, I simply do not belong here I,” he paused, thinking of words that might work with her, “I don’t feel comfortable with my sorting.”

              “Did you discuss your sorting with the Hat?”

              “Yes ma’am and I believe we had a misunderstanding. I’m meant to be in Gryffindor—like my father.”

              “Like your father.”

              “Yes.”

              “Well Arthur, I believe that is the problem,” the Professor said, “your sorting at Hogwarts is not for your father. It is for you. The Sorting Hat places each and every student in the exact House they would most thrive in.”

              Not having time for that nonsense Arthur rose to his feet. “I insist upon seeing the Headmaster about this. He’ll certainly set things right.”

              “Oh he certainly will,” Professor Sprout said coolly, “he will tell you the very same thing I just told you. Which is the very same thing every staff member here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will tell you, because it is true. The Sorting Hat is an incredibly powerful magical artifact. No student has ever been truly inaccurately placed, and in time you will see that. By all means, please, if it will calm you to, go and speak with the Headmaster. But I think,” she said rising to her feet, “if I recall correctly, your father requested to have your sister resorted just last year, am I mistaken?”

              Arthur nodded his head.

              “Do you recall what happened?”

              Arthur nodded. He did. All too clearly.

              Oh gods above. He wanted to die.

              “Now, if that was all you are concerned about, you’d best get to your room and prepare for tomorrow. Remember I expect you to have your crest on your robes by breakfast tomorrow.”

              Arthur nodded silently and turned on his heel to leave.

              “And Arthur?”

              He stopped, turning his head to look at his Head of House.

              “You will come to understand your sorting. I do hope you begin to feel at home here very soon. If you ever need me, do not hesitate to let me know.”

               Arthur said nothing in reply and made his way to the tunnels on the left side of the common room.

* * *

            “But Morgana!” Arthur cried, “You have to! You- you- you’re a girl! And my sister! That automatically means you have to help me.”

            “No,” his sister threw him a smug smile from where she sat pouring over her potions text, “that automatically means you’re on your own. I’m not helping you.”

            Guinevere looked up from her text, “Well, maybe I cou—“

            “Absolutely not,” Morgana slapping a hand down in the middle of Gwen’s potions text, “you’re not to help him with this, not for any reason no matter how much he demands it.”

            “But it’s not a big-“

            “No! You’re not his maidservant. Let him fend for himself,” Morgana said, before looking at Arthur, “Go. Away.”

            “Morgana you—“

            “Good bye now,” his sister said dismissing him with a ‘shooing’ motion before returning her focus to her text book. Gwen gave him a rueful smile before shrugging and she too returned to her studies.

            Arthur groaned in frustration, his grip tightening on his robes and crests as he turned sharply and stormed out of Ravenclaws common room.

            He furiously stomped down hallway after hallway, up and down flights of stairs.

            But he soon realized he was utterly lost.

            Fantastic.

            And it was getting late.

            The blonde boy began running down halls up stairs trying to out run their shifting.

            And then suddenly the wind was knocked out of him and he was knocked back a few steps, staying on his feet but just barely.

            What he ran into hadn’t been as lucky

            A small boy, all a mass of robes and awkwardly splayed limbs, raven hair wildly mussed. 

            “Oh gosh I’m so sorry!” the boy on the floor exclaimed at the same time as:

            “Watch where you’re going!” Arthur snapped. After realizing the other boy had apologized he felt heat rush to his cheeks and he scoffed, “Here.” he reached out a hand which the other boy took.

            Arthur stopped speaking as the boy rose to his feet and he was met with those light blue eyes that had earlier been burning with gold.

            As if his day couldn’t get any worse.            

            He’d run in to Merlin Emrys.

            He’d damn well knocked Merlin ‘Wiz-kid’ Emrys into the ground.

            _“Hey. Come on, that’s enough. You’ve had your fun my friend.”_

_“Do I know you?”_

_“I’m Merlin.”_

_“So I don’t know you. Yet you called me friend?”_

_“That was my mistake. I’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”_

            Arthur shook those disturbing voices from his head—voices that sounded hauntingly familiar. The unfamiliar urge to apologize rose in his throat. But then it was his father’s voice spoke in his mind reminding him that he was a Pendragon, and Pendragons need never apologize for anything.

            “I am sorry, I hope you’re alright,” the boy, Merlin, was saying. Something in the way he spoke made Arthur think he didn’t mean he’d hoped Arthur hadn’t been hurt just now, but that he was talking about something else.

            “You’re the one that got knocked to Exeter and back.”

            The smile that earned him was blinding and brilliant and filled Arthur with something foreign but not wholly unpleasant. “I meant just…you seemed upset. Earlier I mean. At the s-sorting,” he took a breath, “Uhh, I,” he extended a hand to Arthur, “Merlin Emrys, it’s nice to meet you.”

            Arthur raised an eyebrow at the smaller boy but finally took his hand, shaking it so firmly it jostled Merlin’s arm roughly, “My name is Arthur Pendragon. It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Merlin Emrys.”

            “Oh. I’ve heard of you,” Merlin smiled. Arthur grinned a bit at that. So his reputation preceded him. Good. “Err, well. I mean I haven’t really—it’s just, I think I met your sister earlier. Morgana, isn’t it? And her fr-friend Gwen?”

            Oh. Morgana. Well.

            “Yes. My sister attends Hogwarts as well. She’s in Ravenclaw, much to father’s distain.”

            “But that’s fantastic that your sister’s smart enough to be in Ravenclaw,” the smaller boy grinned, “The Hat told me I was too much of a thickhead for it. Why would your father be upset about that?” he asked.

            At first Arthur was caught off guard. Everything in his upbringing brought a nasty, albeit diplomatic response to his lips—when people dug for personal information it was either to get on your good side to manipulate you for their purposes, or to destroy you.

            But the way Merlin asked—his voice, the look in his eyes. He wasn’t after anything. He was merely…

            He was merely curious. As if he actually might want to…understand?

            “That’s- that’s none of your business,” he snapped, disliking the conflicting feelings and not being able to choose between honesty and diplomacy he decided against both and just went with rudeness.

            “Oh! You’re right, I’m sorry,” Merlin actually chuckled, unfazed as he rubbed the back of his neck, “You don’t know me from Adam. I shouldn’t be so nosey.”

            “I don’t know you from who?” Arthur asked, confused.

            “From Adam—you know he was th-the first—“ Merlin stopped speaking all of a sudden, and to Arthur’s eye he lost a bit of the color that was barely there in his already pale face. The boy swallowed before saying, “N-never mind. It’s just a saying I picked up,” he looked down at his feet for a moment before returning to meeting Arthur’s eye. Though his gaze suddenly snapped back down to look at Arthur’s hands.

            “Oh,” Merlin said, “what are you doing with your robes?”

            Arthur huffed, “Weren’t you just going on about some fellow named Adam telling you not to be so nosey?” Before Merlin could respond Arthur sighed, “It’s-it’s stupid. My Head of House insists that we actually,” Arthur shuddered, “ _sew_ our crests to our robes. Like we’re Muggles!”

            Merlin’s eyes were guarded as he asked, “Oh. Umm. Why’d they want you do to that?”

            Arthur groaned, “Some utter rot about learning to depend on ourselves and our classmates or some such rubbish. I tried asking my own sister, and well,” he held up his still separate robes and crests, “you can see where that got me.”

            “Well. Erm,” Merlin looked down at his feet and the tips of his abnormally large ears turned pink.

            “Yes?” Arthur prompted impatiently, “Well, out with it.”

            “Well, I er…I c-could help you,” Merlin said, releasing a deep breath he’d been holding.

            Arthur’s brain stopped for a moment.

            How in the _bloody hell_ was he supposed to respond to this?

            But he didn’t have to respond.

            “Give them here,” Merlin said, his hands already latched on to Arthur’s robes and crest, taking them. The shorter boy turned sharply, “Follow me.”

            Arthur wasn’t sure how to respond to being bossed around either. But he followed the smaller boy down the hallway and he stopped when he turned the corner to see Merlin taking a seat on a bench under a stone arch in what appeared to be the courtyard.

            _How_ exactly the two had ended up in an outdoor hallway was well past Arthur’s understanding. Sure he’d been running about the castle blindly trying to find his way back to Hufflepuff. But seriously?

            Merlin was already smoothing out one of Arthur’s robes in his lap and holding one of the crests in place.

            A threaded needle appeared in the raven-haired boy’s hand. And Arthur stared in awe and confusion as Merlin Emrys. Merlin ‘Greatest Wizard of an Age’ Emrys _sewed._

_Sewed_ by _hand_.

            Sewed by hand _Arthur’s_ crest.

            He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, like he’d committed a crime. Having a world-renowned wizard _sew_.

            But at the same time there was something oddly comforting about the sight.

            _“Aggghh_ Mer _lin are you_ finished _yet? The banquet is tonight you know—not in a fortnight.”_

_A late-teen version of Merlin was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, leg propped up on a small stack of books as he sewed a large linin shirt. The man smiled brightly as he continued his work. “You needn’t worry Arthur,” his grin grew, “your royal-prattiness will be fully clothed in time for the banquet. Just a few more minutes.” He looked up at Arthur, “You don’t have to—“_

“—stand there you know?”

            Merlin’s voice brought Arthur back from…whatever the hell that was. He looked down at Merlin who was nearly done with the first robe and crest.

            “Excuse me?”

            “You can sit,” Merlin said, gesturing with his elbow to the empty space next to him on the stone bench, “I don’t bite. Well much anyway,” he grinned mischievously.

            “You don’t bite much?” Arthur asked, amused as he sat next to the boy.

            “Well, me mam always said it was rude. She tried to break me of the habit but I can be a bit dense,” he grinned widely.

            Arthur scoffed, “Obviously.”

            Merlin smiled at him and nodded before looking back down to his work. He finished the first robe pressing lips to thread and biting through to free it from the finished robe and moved on to the second.

            “What do you like to do? What’s your favorite thing?” Merlin asked suddenly.

            Arthur looked at the other boy, incredulous. What kind of a question was that?

            “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

            “Well,” Merlin said, biting his lip as he concentrated on a stitch for a moment before speaking again, “if you could be doing anything else in the world, right now—your absolute favorite thing—what would it be?”

            “Flying,” Arthur said, with just a moment’s pause. It was true. Arthur loved everything about flying—from the way he felt when on a broom soaring through the sky, to the way his father praised him for his Quidditch prowess.

            Merlin’s hand stopped moving and he looked at Arthur, eyebrow raised in question. “You…can _fly_?”

            Arthur laughed uneasily, “Well of course I can fly. Every wizard can—you fly don’t you? My father had me in lessons before I could even crawl.”

            Merlin blushed and seemed unsettled before he cleared his throat and said, “Oh, yeah. Haha. I-yeah same here. I just. Uhh. Wasn’t sure, you know?”

            “Wasn’t sure of what?” Arthur asked, defensively.

            “Well…you know. Some students at Hogwarts weren’t brought up in…in the wizarding world.”

            Arthur rose to his feet to tower over the other boy, “You thought I was some---some _half breed_ or _Muggle Born?!_ That _I_ c- could be a filthy _Mudblood._ ”

            Merlin visibly flinched at the word and sucked in a sharp breath.

            “N-no. I-i-it’s not that I _thought_ you were it-,” he took a deep breath and rose to his feet as well, dropping Arthur’s robes to the floor, blue eyes blazing as they matched Arthur’s in challenge. “You shouldn’t speak that way about other people. It’s rude. There’s nothing wrong with me not knowing your background. You can take your ignorant bigoted opinions and shove them. Sew your own damn crests if you’re so much better than everyone else.”

            Well what in the hell had just happened? One moment he’d been stumbling over himself trying to help Arthur and now he was dumping his things on the floor and calling him a bigot?

            “Pick that up!” Arthur demanded pointing to his robes.

            “No!” Merlin said firmly, “I won’t. I’m not just some servant you can boss around. I was trying to be nice to you you—you _dollophead_!”

            His last word echoed through the courtyard and caused both boys to go still.

            Before they both erupted into a fit of laughter.

            And it felt so _good_. A deep, belly laugh that filled up Arthur’s entire being with levity, and caused him to bend over, clutching his sides.

            “W-what’s a dollophead?” Arthur asked once he finally caught his breath.

            “Y-you are you pr-prat,” Merlin said, still laughing through his words.

            Arthur cleared his throat, uncomfortableness replacing his levity. “I…”

            “Yes?” Merlin prompted.

            “I’m not sorry for how I think. But I do… _apologize_ …if I offended you. You’re most certainly not my servant and I shouldn’t have been so rude to you.”

            Merlin shrugged, “I don’t agree with how you think. But I accept your apology,” he said, stooping to pick up Arthur’s robes. “I’ll finish these up now eh?”

            They both sat back down. And Arthur built up the courage to ask, “You…you _don’t_ agree with how I think?”

            “No. Not one bit,” Merlin said coolly as he cut the thread with his teeth and set the second finished cloak down, picking up the third and final robe and crest.

            “But you’re in _Slytherin!_ ” he said, “And you’re Pureblood! My father was in Gryffindor—and even among some of those bleeding hearts he found other Purebloods that still had some sense.”

            Merlin sewed in silence for a few minutes. “But you’re wrong,” he stated simply as he finished with the third and final crest, holding up the robe to examine his work.

            “What do you mean I’m wrong? About Purebloods? How can you say that?!” Arthur asked, regaining most of the anger he’d held before.

            “You _are_ wrong about that. But that’s not what I meant. You’re wrong about me,” Merlin said as he bundled up the three robes and stood, gently placing them in Arthur’s lap.

            “What do you mean?” Arthur asked. Their eyes were level with each other as the smaller boy held his gaze.

            “You’re just…wrong.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here is Chapter Four! This chapter will be from Morgana's POV so I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much to everyone who has read and thank you to those who have been so sweet and left comments and kudos! You're all lovely!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

            “You _told_ him?!”

            “I didn’t _tell_ him I just… _hinted_ at it I guess?”

            “So you bloody well _told him!_ ”

            “Morgana,” Gwen tried interrupting.

            “Day _one_ and you go and tell the _very last person_ you should _tell_ on this _godforsaken planet_. Do you _know_ who our father is? Do you _know_ what my brother and this entire school could do to you?!”

            “Morgana!” Gwen said sharply, getting the other girl’s attention, “If you’re going to yell we should go somewhere more private,” she said, gesturing to the other occupants of the Ravenclaw Common room. The few other Ravenclaws were glaring at Morgana who stood, hands on hips, screaming at Merlin Emrys.

            “Oh, _piss off!_ ” Morgana hollered at them. The other Ravenclaws quickly gathered up their things and rushed up the stairs to their respective dormitories.

            “Morgana!”

            “ _What_?!” she snapped at the darker girl.

            “ _Look._ ”

            Morgana turned to face her friend and saw she was glaring at her. “What?” Morgana asked again, more calmly. Gwen jerked her head to indicate Merlin sitting next to her on the couch. Morgana’s attention returned to the boy seeming to try and make himself smaller as he pressed himself as far back into the leather couch as possible. His eyes were wide and his face a shade much too pale to be normal even for him.

            Morgana carefully sat on the low table in front of the couch as Gwen tenitivly reached out to cover one of Merlin’s hands with her own. Morgana shot the other girl a panic-y _‘What the hell do I do?’_ look.

            The thing with Gwen, and Morgana herself, was the fact that the two of them could say more with an expression than most Hogwarts Professors could in an entire class period.

            And right now Gwen’s face was screaming ‘ _You were absolutely horrid now apologize._ Right _now.’_

            Sighing, Morgana rolled her eyes before forcing a smile in Merlin’s direction.

            “I’m sorry for yelling at you Merlin, just…just tell me exactly what happened, alright?” she asked, trying to go for a sweet tone of voice.

            She knew she’d failed, that it sounded horribly forced and uncertain; but details, details.

            “Well, I was coming to see you anyway, and on my way here I ran into Arthur. Literally,” Merlin said, and told the girls how he’d sewn Arthur’s crests and robes, which earned him a scoff from Morgana.

            “You’re not his manservant—you should’ve let him fend for himself,” she said.

            “But I was…I think. Or maybe I am? I dunno.”

            Morgana’s heart sped up in her chest and her eyes were a bit wide as she leaned forward and asked, “W-what do you mean you were?” she asked, sharing a frantic look with Gwen.

            Merlin shook his head, “Nothing, sorry,” he gave her a tight rueful grin, “I’m just tired. Talking out of my head I guess.”

            Morgana breathed a sigh of relief. “Well then, what happened once you sewed his robes?”

            “I uhh…well we got talking about flying and I made a remark that I hadn’t been sure if he was Pureblood or not—“

            “Which of course he flipped a table over,” Morgana remarked dryly, “I told you—my brother and people like him—they’re very closed minded over the stupidest things.”

            Merlin nodded dumbly. And Morgana had to admit she felt bad—the poor boy looked lost.

            Gwen’s face was tight with anxiety as she leaned forward a bit and in an almost painfully strained voice said, “But I’m sure it’ll be alright, Arthur will come around. I think you’ll be b-b-th-the best of friends soon enough.”

            Morgana shot the other girl a warning look, and Gwen snapped her mouth shut, patting Merlin’s hand before sitting back to clench her hands tightly in her lap.

            Taking in a deep breath before clearing her throat Morgana leaned forward and said, “So then what happened?”

            “He apologized for offending me and—“

            “ _What_?!” both girls screeched, causing Merlin to jump.

            “Well of course I was offended I mean—“

            “Not _that,_ ” the girls said in unison.

            “Arthur. Arthur _Pendragon. Apologized._ To _you_?”

            “Yeah,” Merlin said.

            Morgana shook her head to clear it. “And then you _hinted_ that…?”

            “Um. He said a bunch of rubbish about Purebloods being superior and that he expected me to believe the same thing since I’m _“Pureblood and in Slytherin”._ ” He mimicked the larger boy’s posture and mannerisms.

            Morgana snorted, that sounded like her brother. He could be such a dunce. “And what did you say?”

            “I told him he was wrong,” Merlin shrugged.

            Morgana sighed, “Well then. You didn’t directly confess anything. Of course, give him time, when you actually do become friends you could confess to him until you’re blue in the face and he won’t believe you.”

            “When we’re friends?” Merlin asked.

            “If.” Morgana said quickly, cursing herself. “ _If_ you become friends.”

            Merlin snorted and rolled his eyes as he chuckled a bit. “Not likely after that conversation. I’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”

            Morgana and Gwen both looked at each other.

            “Oooookay Merlin, it’s getting late you know the way back down to Slytherin yeah? You should get going!” Gwen said in a forced cheery tone.

            “Yeah, get some rest. Arthur is an idiot, your secret is safe so you can rest easy. First day is always stressful.”

            “Yes!” Gwen said, instantly going into ‘mama-Gwen’ mode. “Your robes are ready? You know what time you need to get up to be ready in time for breakfast?”

            “Don’t forget your schedule—I believe its Slytherin custom for the Head of House to pass them around the night before instead of in the morning at breakfast. Make sure you keep it with you,” Morgana added in.

            “And make sure you eat well at breakfast—the first day can be nerve-wracking but it’ll be all the more stressful if you face it on an empty stomach. And please do not hesitate to come find us if you run into any trouble,” Gwen finished their lecture with a pat to Merlin’s arm before the two of them stood to walk him out of the common room.

            As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Gwen turned on her heel and looked to Morgana, eyes wide and frantic.

            “Do you think he remembers?”

* * *

 

            Morgana lay awake that evening, eyes achy with stress and sleep, her chest tight with anxiety as she focused on the pull and push of her lungs as she drew in short, strained breaths past the lump in her throat.

            She was Morgana Pendragon. She did not cry. She most certainly did not get scared.

            But somehow when it came to Merlin Emrys, Morgana was still to this day terrified out of her mind.

            She drew in a sharp breath and hastily wiped at her eyes when the curtains surrounding her bed opened and Gwen stood there, a low light coming from her wand as she came to sit on her knees at the edge of Morgana’s bed.

            “Ana?” the darker girl asked.

            Morgana pushed herself up so she was sitting with her back right up against the headboard and drew her knees tightly up against her chest as she rubbed her face with the back of her hand.

            “That’s not my name,” she shot back weakly.

            Gwen smiled a little and whispered a quiet “ _Nox_ ,” following up with a silencing charm so they didn’t have to worry about waking the others, though both girls continued speaking quietly.

            “Scoot over Ana-Banana,” she whispered, playfully shoving the other girl before sitting right next to her, back against the headboard. She put an arm around Morgana’s pale shoulders.

            “I swear to God if you ever call me that in front of Arthur I’ll—“

            “You’ll what?” Gwen teased lightly, kissing Morgana’s temple before resting her head against the very spot her lips had been, “It’ll be alright. It really will. Merlin will understand.”

            And that’s all it took for Morgana to let everything go.

            A small sob was ripped from her achy throat and she drew in multiple shuddering breaths as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She sniffled multiple times before she could manage whispering, “B-b-but I-I did such hor- _horrible_ things to hi-him! To ev-everyone!” her lungs constricted and she could feel her stomach rolling as she fought to catch her breath as she pulled her head to the side to look at Gwen, who in kind turned her head to look at Morgana.

            “Morgana—“

            “How can y-you _forgive me_?” the last two words were incredibly high pitched and while both girls were still speaking quietly, Morgana was grateful for Gwen’s silencing spell.

            No one could see her like this.

            Well, no one _else_ could anyway.

            “Because there is _nothing_ to forgive Morgana,” Gwen whispered back firmly, “You aren’t that Morgana anymore. And that Morgana had been lied to her whole life, taught to hate everything about what she was. Everything and everyone she loved was taken from her because of Uther and Morgause’s manipulations. Did my old self appreciate her constant attempts on our lives? No. But I do understand that that was then, and this is a fresh slate. A whole new life to learn from your mistakes and do things right. _You_ are good, and beneath your tough-girl bravado you love others fiercely and you’re always looking to protect those weaker than you. And you know what? Once everyone has their memories back, they’ll realize the very same thing.”

            Morgana still felt sick and shaky but the pounding in her head and chest had slowed and the ache that filled her throat and lungs ceased as she could finally breathe easier. She rested her head on Gwen’s shoulder, the action sending out an unspoken ‘thank you’. Gwen rested her head atop Morgana’s in her unspoken ‘always’.

            “You should get some rest,” Morgana said.

            “Do you think you’ll get any sleep tonight?” Gwen asked.

            Morgana shook her head, knowing Gwen already knew the answer and would feel the motion.

            The other girl smiled and grabbed Morgana’s covers before laying down and snuggling up underneath them, looking up at Morgana in prompt to do the same. “Then neither am I.”

            The action brought a small smile to Morgana’s lips and she too snuggled up underneath the covers, facing Gwen as their arms went to rest upon each other’s waists.

            “Those are always my favorite,” Morgana whispered quietly, speaking close to the other girl’s face.

            “What are?” Gwen asked, her head tilting slightly to the side in question.

            “Memories. The ones where my visions would keep me up at night.”

            “And I would always stay up with you,” Gwen smiled widely, “ _just_ as I _always will_ , _”_ her grin grew as she leaned her head forward, lips hovering just over Morgana’s forehead, “my lady.” A kiss was pressed to Morgana’s forehead.

            And with Gwen at her side, Morgana was finally able to sleep.

* * *

 

            The great hall was abuzz with students milling about trying to find seats with friends and most houses trying to arrange it so their first years were mostly together but mixed in with upper forms so they could easily receive answers to any questions they would have.

            House Slytherin, as per usual, sat in perfect order—with first years sitting closest to the end of the hall where the professors’ table lay and seventh years sitting at the end of the table closest to the great hall entry. Merlin was sitting Morgana caught Merlin’s gaze in her own as she and Gwen took a seat at Ravenclaw table, he grinned at her as if to assure her he was okay, and Morgana gave him a small smile, her expression telling him to let her know if he needed anything. Morgana’s smile grew when she saw Gwen, eyes bright, her smile blinding as she waved enthusiastically to the small raven-haired boy as she took her seat next to Morgana.

            “He’s just so _cute_! Just look at him! He’s so adorable in his little robes and his tie—oh green suites him don’t you think?”

            “Hmm, purple might suit him better,” Morgana commented.

            Gwen nodded in agreement. “Oh I hope everyone is being nice to him. I hope he has a good day,” she started prattling on.

            Morgana grabs a few slices of buttered toast and quickly snatches up the carafe of pumpkin juice for Gwen before anyone else can take it (as Gwen was still going on about how they need to look out for Merlin on his first day—Arthur too. “But Merlin’s only tiny!”), and pours the girl a glass before putting the carafe back in its place and goes to reach for the orange juice only to have a glass of the citrus drink placed in her reaching hand. Gwen smiles as she hands Morgana the glass of orange juice and Morgana realizes Gwen had added a few strips of bacon and two eggs onto Morgana’s plate.

            Morgana tries to hide a grin as she shakes her head at the other girl’s thoughtfulness. They raise their glasses of orange and pumpkin juice and tap them together before taking their first sips and digging into their breakfast.

            “Morgana.”

            Morgana’s heart stopped for a painfully long moment, and then proceeded to thud harshly for several beats, and her lungs filled with a constricting ache. She could feel Gwen’s hand squeezing her own under the table in reassurance, an unspoken ‘ _You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to_ ’ passed from Gwen to Morgana through the action. Morgana squeezed back before clearing her throat, taking on a neutral expression as she stared up at the newcomer standing across the table from her coolly.

            “Morgause.”

            The tall blonde girl nodded, looking albeit uncomfortable as she fidgeted with her Gryffindor tie. “I…do you…” she cleared her throat. “Do you know who I am?” she asked quietly, dark eyes beseeching.

            Morgana nodded, “I remembered. A long time ago.”

            Morgause nodded almost absentmindedly. “ _Jesus_ , last year must have been rough for you. I-I would have tried to talk to you sooner if I’d known. I only started to remember—“

            “Last night, when you saw Arthur being sorted,” Morgana supplied knowingly.

            Morgause nodded as she focused her gaze on the stone floors.

            “I suppose the rest of us had a similar experience last night if it was their first time seeing Arthur. Merlin, for instance seems to be remembering some. I haven’t seen,” Morgana swallowed the name, clearing her throat before she attempted once more, “Mordred. But he was the youngest of us, he may show up in later years.”

            Arthur, was the one who triggered everyone’s memory of their past lives, as Morgana had learned early on in her life.  The day of Arthur’s birth was joyful and wonderful—a baby brother, a sibling to look after and play with, a companion for the lonely halls of Camelot—but that had lasted only for a moment.

            Because the moment Arthur’s first cry of life rang out, their mother drew her last breath, and pain immeasurable had wracked its way through Morgana’s body as she was assaulted with a slew of violent memories of her former life. Being only two years old at the time, the experience had nearly killed her. Mother and daughter had almost been lost one right after the other. Morgana could scarcely remember little else but pain and panic on that day and poor Arthur had was only minutes old before his life was thrown into temporary chaos, medi-witches and wizards frantically trying to figure out what to do between Ygraine passing and Morgana dropping to the floor seizing in agony, screaming words of the Old Religion that none of them could understand.

            That very night began the constant dreams plagued by memories of her past life, nightmares that kept her from sleeping properly even with dreamless-sleep. Uther had even held her back a year from attending Hogwarts because these terrors were so violent it was uncertain if she could live in a dormitory with others without disturbing everyone’s rest or keeping everyone awake full stop. But Dumbledore had actually stepped in on the matter and discerned that Morgana would fair nicely at Hogwarts, and should be given the chance to.

            Though now Morgana was extremely grateful for being held back a year, she didn’t much care for the idea of being in a different year than Gwen.

            “I would like to…” Morgause started, bringing her eyes up to meet Morgana’s. The older blonde stood up straighter. “I would like to talk. With you, Morgana. To clear the air a bit?”

            Morgana could feel Gwen sitting straighter in her seat, her hand squeezing Morgana’s tightly, telling her she’d support whatever Morgana wanted to do.

            “I,” Morgana took in a deep breath, “I would love to, actually. I would really like,” she squeezed Gwen’s hand as she spoke, “to do things right this time. If you bear no ill will toward Arthur then maybe we could _clear the air_ as you say.”

            Morgause nodded briefly, then gave Morgana a small smile, “I would like that. I’m Quidditch captain this year so my schedules a bit full, but these first few days—“

            Feeling braver having voiced her decision Morgana cut her off, “Tonight. 7pm in the Ravenclaw common room. If you’re going to be late don’t bother coming at all, but if so do not expect me to be so generous in the future.”

            Gwen snorted at Morgana’s attitude, but covered it up with a fake cough and taking a drink of her pumpkin juice.

            Morgause nodded, her smile growing. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, and with that she nodded to Morgana and turned on her heel to join her fellow classmates at Gryffindor table.

            Gwen smiled and giggled as she pressed her face into the crook of Morgana’s neck. “Good job, your _highness_ , you’re always so terribly…”

            “Witchy?” Morgana supplied with a wide grin, wrinkling her nose as she half turned, half laid her head on top of Gwen’s.

            “Are you two always like this?”

            Oh _sweet Merlin above_ Morgana did not have time for this—she’d barely touched her breakfast and Herbology would be starting in less than an hour and Gwen always liked to get there early to chat with Professor Sprout. She sighed and primly took a bite of toast as she rolled her eyes before meeting the gaze of the boy who took a seat across from Morgana and Gwen.

            “What do you want, _Arty_?” she asked smugly after she’d swallowed her food (she was a lady after all).

            Arthur’s eyes widened and his shoulders tensed as he leaned forward, “Don’t you _ever_ call me that, ever again. _Especially_ not in _public._ ”

            “Awe,” Gwen giggled around a bite of egg, “I think it’s cute!”

            “Well it’s a good thing what _you_ think isn’t worth—OW!“

            Morgana’s leg shot out under the table, kicking her brother harshly in the shin.

            “Finish that sentence and I’ll have you delivered back to Hufflepuff table via Owl Order in _ribbons_.”

            “We’re siblings, aren’t we supposed to, you know, protect each other or something?” Arthur drawled.

            “I _am_ protecting you. From me. Now what do you want?” she eyed his robes and saw the Hufflepuff crest neatly sewn to his robes, “I see you sorted out your robes.”

            “Yes, I did. No thanks to you.”

            “Didya do it yourself? The stitch-work’s lovely.” She smirked and then took a sip of juice.

            Arthur blushed and clenched his jaw. “ _No._ I had a frien—…well. I don’t know. A fellow classmate help me.”

            “Oh _really_ ,” Morgana winked at Gwen. “Could this fellow classmate just so happen to be named after the greatest wizard who ever lived and have adorably large ears?”

            “His ears are _not_ adorable,” Arthur snapped, his cheeks turning pink and Gwen stifled a giggle.

            “And how did that go?” Morgana asked.

            “That’s part of my reason for coming to talk to you,” Arthur cleared his throat before continuing, “is this school always so…bizarre?”

            _Well Arthur, it is a school of witchcraft and wizardry, nothing odd to be seen here._ “What do you mean?”

            “Well first, when I tried to get resorted my head of house thought I meant I’d been…misplaced.” When Morgana merely raised an eyebrow at that he continued, “You know…gender wise in the dormitories.”

            Morgana’s eyes went wide and a delighted laugh went free from her lips before she could clarify, “She thought you wanted to be a girl?!”

            “Shhhhhhhh! Hush! Yes, and it was embarrassing,” his face was beet red as he continued, “And then M-Merlin Emrys, he _sewed_ my crests onto my robes for me. Like actually sewed with a needle and thread, and then he got all uppity when I was talking about Pureblood superiority and he said that he disagreed with me! He’s in Slytherin for Mer—…goodness sakes! And you’d think being a Pureblood he’d have some pride in it. But no! And _then_ ,” Arthur looked about before leaning in closer. “Last night, whenever I got back to the boys dormitory, I noticed a bed had been added while I was away. And this morning there was…”he looked about once more before whispering, “a _girl_ changing in the _boys_ dormitory bathroom. She’s in my year and her name is—“

            “Arthur!” Morgana snapped, “Can you _really_ be _this_ moronic?”

            “What?!”

            “Stop calling him ‘her’ or ‘she’! He’s obviously male.”

            “Uh, _no._ She’s a girl. Her name is Temperance, but this morning she told us to call her Timothy or something. But she’s most certainly female.”

            “ _He_ is most certainly _male_ , Arthur,” Morgana insisted, “If _Timothy_ feels more comfortable being seen as male you shouldn’t disrespect his wishes.”

            “But that’s just _weird_ ,” Arthur whined, “Father would have a fit if he heard about any of this.”

            “Father would have a fit if the House Elves delivered his dinner with white wine instead of red. He tends to have them often—that doesn’t make those things wrong.”

            “It does if he says they’re wrong,” Arthur said proudly.

            “No it doesn’t Arthur, you’re just as blind as he is.”

            Arthur rushed to his feet, fists clinching, “You—you’re just a stupid girl. I don’t know why I thought I should come to you for advice.” He turned quickly and started stomping his way out of the great hall.

            “Well, at least one things certain,” Gwen sighed with a grimace.

            “What?” Morgana asked.

            “We don’t need to be so worried about Morgause or Mordred, or any of the others that might wish Arthur harm,” Gwen said, “The thing that will truly defeat Arthur Pendragon is himself.” And then, after a moment’s pause, “Wasn’t _Timothy_ the name of Arthur’s servant? The one Merlin replaced?”

            Morgana’s eyes went wide and she almost couldn’t stop the laugh building in her throat. “Oh why yes, I believe it was,” she grinned, “ _this_ will be interesting.”

* * *

 

            “She’s late.”

            Morgana had been pacing in front of a couch in the Ravenclaw common room where Gwen sat reading her transfiguration textbook for the past hour.

            “She’s _not_ late, Morgana. It’s still ten minutes till seven,” Gwen said as she turned a page.

            “What if she doesn’t come?”

            “That’s entirely up to you.”

            Morgana stopped her pacing and turned to look at the other girl.

            “Wha’do you mean?” she asked quickly.

            Gwen lay her text in her lap and smiled up at Morgana. “I _mean_ , you have total control in this situation regardless if Morgause comes tonight or not. The ball will be in your court—no matter what you’ll have the right to say if she gets another chance with you, and if she doesn’t come tonight and you say you want to still meet with her, she’ll be far more inclined to come because she messed it up this time and you’re not one to give many second chances.”

            “Though all things considered, I of all people should be the most likely to give second chances,” Morgana sighed, biting her lip as she took a seat on the low table in front of Gwen.

            “Morgana Pendragon,” Gwen snapped, taking both the other girls hands in her own. “We’ve discussed this.”

            “I know, I know. I’m just in a mood,” Morgana shook her head.

            “Have I come at a bad time?”

            Gwen gave Morgana a quick ‘ _See? I told you’_ look before releasing Morgana’s hands, closing her book, and rising to her feet. “I’ll leave you two to it shall I?”

            Morgause was standing behind the couch, biting her lip, arms crossed over her chest, hands clenched tightly as she looked wearily at Morgana.

            Morgana smiled. _The ball is in my court._

“We’ll talk up in the dormitory—it’s more private,” Morgana said confidently as she rose, smoothing her robes.

            Gwen nodded in understanding and sat back down, opening her text once more without paying any mind to Morgause.

Morgana led the blonde seventh year up stairs to the second year dormitory. There were a few girls in there conversing and playing card games, a few girls were painting their toe nails and chatting excitedly about their first day back at school.

            Morgana cleared her throat and everyone fell silent and looked to her.

            “Out.”

            Cards sprung to life and dove for the safety of the deck and then hopped onto the nearest nightstand. Those painting nails quickly capped their nail polish and all the girls silently left their dormitory without a murmur of complaint.

            Morgause was smirking, eyebrows raised at the smaller girl. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself haven’t you?”

            Morgana shrugged. “Most of the school is weary of me since…the incident, last year with Gwen,” she smirked. “When you hex a few Slytherins from upper forms with sixth year hexes people tend to not want to get in your way.”       

            Morgause looked down at her, wide eyed. “That was _you?_ _Bloody hell_ that—oh Merlin, pardon my language—but seriously that was _you_? You were only a first year!”

            Morgana’s posture straightened slightly. “I was 12 you know. I’m 13 now, I’m most certainly not a child.”

            Morgause chuckled and took a seat on one of the beds. “No. I guess you aren’t.” And then, after a pause, “You and that Gwen girl…you’re…?”

            “Yes, just as last time, although this time I don’t plan on screwing things up,” Morgana said.

            Morgause smiled and nodded, chuckling. “I don’t suspect she likes me very much then?”

            Morgana smiled to herself. “I don’t suspect she does, not that she’s expressed it to me.”

            “Too nice?”

            “Too _wise_ ,” Morgana corrected, “Gwen isn’t some wishy-washy goody-two-shoes. If she doesn’t like something she’ll be sure to let you know it. But in this situation she’s making sure that I make my mind up for myself—that if I like or dislike you it’s entirely because _I_ like or dislike you, not because of how she feels on the matter.”

            Before Morgause could speak again Morgana crossed her arms over her chest as she stood up straighter before the other girl, standing now just an inch taller than Morgause. “Now. We will not be talking unless you _swear_ to me Morgause, you bloody _swear_ on whatever the hell is most important to you in your life that you do not intend to harm Arthur or our friends. Swear it now or this conversation is over and there _will not be another_.”

            “I _swear_ Morgana,” Morgause said, eyes wide and her entire presence screamed in earnest. “I swear on _everything_ that I bear none of you ill will. I only learned about all of this yesterday I barely understand who I am!”

            “Who you _were_ ,” Morgana was quick to correct. She sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You only started remembering last night—you hardly understand anything at all of what you did. Of what _we_ did. There are two things you must understand Morgause,” Morgana cleared her throat as she dropped her arms to clasp her hands behind her back. “Firstly, this life. This is a new life. It is a second chance to right the wrongs of our past lives and learn from our mistakes—to help Arthur and Merlin achieve their destinies. And secondly, if you begin to repeat your past mistakes you’d best expect I will put an _end_ to that, do you understand?”

            Morgause nodded solemnly.

            “And…” Morgana took in a deep breath. “Should I ever appear to be repeating my past mistakes…” she cleared her throat. “I expect fully expect you to do the same.”

            Morgause was silent for a moment before she said, “I-I. Y-you can’t honestly be asking me to—“

            “Gwen won’t do it and as of right now you’re the only other person who knows about this reincarnation thing that will. Gwen will correct me and do her best to make me see the error of my ways but if it comes down to…” Morgana breathed in sharply, shutting her eyes.

            “If I cannot be corrected, I ask that you handle it the way I would handle you were the roles reversed.”

* * *

 

            When Morgana returned to the common room Gwen greeted her with a smile and resumed reading her textbook in silence.

            A silence that spoke volumes. Morgana could practically _feel_ Gwen begging to know what happened between the two sisters, but not daring to ask because she didn’t want to pressure her into talking about it if she wasn’t quite ready to.

            Morgana smirked. “It was fine. It went well.”

            Gwen let out a rather large sigh of relief as she closed her transfiguration text. “Thank God—I’ve been staring at the same paragraph for ten minutes waiting for you to say something.”

            Morgana laughed. “I figured as much since you haven’t turned a page since I’ve sat down.”

            Gwen blushed and rested her head on Morgana’s shoulder. “So. It went well yeah?”

            “Yes, it did. We…cleared the air a bit. She swears she’s not going to murder us all in our sleep. So…it’s a start I guess.”

            “Good,” Gwen smiled and sat up straight. “Oh! Arthur stopped by just a few minutes before you came back down. He was looking for you but I told him you were with Morgause and the two of you didn’t wish to be disturbed.”

            Morgana rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he had no end of pig headed things to say to that.”

            Gwen gave her a look before saying, “He’ll come around. He’s _Arthur_. Just you wait, I’ll bet Merlin has him all straightened out by Christmas break.”

            Morgana smiled. “Now wouldn’t that be a lovely Christmas present?”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking up where we left off--we start with Arthur and Merlin's first day of classes at Hogwarts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience with this addition to Certainly Uncertain. I apologize for the wait-I've switched colleges and majors in the past year and am currently taking 18 credit hours-which 10/10 would not recommend ever in life. I hope this chapter was somewhat worth the wait! Thank you for everyone's lovely reviews-they're so sweet and lovely and helpful! Thank you also for the kudos they really brighten my day! Enjoy!

            One of Arthur's first classes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was potions, the slot allotted for Hufflepuffs and Slytherins.

            Arthur was a little bit…pleased, at the prospect of having a class with Merlin, strange as the large-eared boy was; he was a nice enough boy Arthur supposed.

            Arthur entered the classroom alongside the Hufflepuffs, and had intended to take a seat next to Leon, but the boy was already sitting next to Merlin, so instead he had to sit by some Hufflepuff girl he didn't even know, nor would he care to.

            Though, it was nice when Merlin turned around and looked to Arthur, and sent him a small wave. Arthur waved back and pointed to the crest Merlin had sewn onto his robes the other night before smiling to the other boy. Merlin grinned as if pleased and then turned to face the front.

            However, Leon didn't turn around and acknowledge Arthur. But the young Pendragon chalked that up to being merely because he was sitting a few rows back from his friend.

            Now, Arthur had heard many things about Professor Severus Snape. He was the “bastard of the dungeons”, the nightmare that haunted every student’s dreams from the moment they stepped foot in his classroom in first year, until the moment they handed in their last potions examination in their final year at Hogwarts.

            Morgana, however, had no end of pleasant things to say about the man, or his class at least anyway. The one thing that had pleased their father about Morgana’s experiences at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, was that she was excelling in all of her courses, snatching up the number one spot over all of her peers when it came to her grades, and she seemed particularly talented in potions—father had even been invited to a parent-professor meeting between he and Professor Snape over the summer, during which, his father had proudly reported, the Potions Master had nothing but praise for Morgana. That of course, was followed by a rather derisive comment about the professor mentioning that the only reason he believed Miss _Smith_ had passed first-year potions was because of Morgana’s keen Potions intuition and her (completely obscene, in Father’s opinion) obsession with engaging with that Muggle-born for Merlin knows what reason.

            Arthur was sure the Professor would be just as tough as everyone had said he would be, but he fully expected to have the upper hand when he set foot in his first potions lesson with the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Professor Snape was sure to at least somewhat like him as he seemed to like Morgana.

However, to his great remorse, Arthur discovered that Professor Severus Snape _loathed_ Arthur Pendragon with every fiber of his vile, sadistic being; yet another person who worked to make Arthur's life more difficult, but would fawn all over Merlin Emrys.

            Professor Snape had sneered Arthur's name, (while there were inflections of pride ringing through his voice as he read the celebrity Slytherin's name), which was quickly followed by the Potions Master quizzing Arthur on potion's and their qualities that—after wracking his brain, thinking back to the last time he’d gone poking around in his father’s library—Arthur  could remember seeing in several fourth and even seventh year level materials. Of course when Merlin Emrys couldn't even answer the most basic of first year questions—questions you could ask even a toddler as long as they'd had at least one session with a proper MediWitch or healer they could remember. When Merlin couldn't answer these questions Professor Snape did nothing more than murmur, in distinctively gentle tones:

            "That's quite alright Mr. Emrys.” The man said Merlin's surname like a verbal hug. And then in stark contrast, “Pendragon!" he barked, as he whirled violently around and stalked up the rows of students to Arthur's desk in order to better sneer in the boys face. “The potion that requires the following ingredients: Crushed snake fangs, Moondew, Wormwood, and Asphodel _is_?"

            _What in Merlin—ugh! What kind of question is that?_ Arthur fumed. "Painless Sleep," he answered confidently. He didn't have a ruddy clue, but he certainly wasn't going to let anyone else know.

            Professor Snape had looked down his great honking nose at Arthur and examined the young Pendragon as if he were a splotch of vomit dirtying his classroom floors. " _N_ o," he said, in low, disdainful, ringing tones.

            And then, just to add salt to his wounds—Arthur realized the reason why Morgana had been studying potions endlessly over the summer. Many times, even when she was hanging out with that Gwen girl and would usually be giving her the upmost of Morgana Pendragon’s undivided attention, but no, this summer they'd been reclining on a couch (ugh) together, Gwen nestled snuggly against Morgana who held many an advanced volume of everything dealing with potions—new editions, old dusty tomes. The meeting Father had with Professor Snape, the endless compliments, all the praise.

            Then, right there and ever-loving then in that Merlin-forsa—awful first day of first-year Potions, Arthur discovered the reason _why_.

            “Draught of Living Death,” Morgana’s voice rang out through the dungeon classroom as her shoes clicked against the floor surface as she walked up the centre of the room, passing out thick sheets of parchment that held their first potions assignment—the questions written out neatly in what was unmistakably Morgana’s handwriting. Well, some of them—the one Arthur was handed was in Morgana’s hand, but the girl sitting in front of him (some Hufflepuff whose name he couldn’t be bothered to ask for), her assignment was written in what Arthur knew to be Gwen’s handwriting.

            “Very good Miss Pendragon,” the Professor praised, obviously pleased with the girl. “Now, the _coup de grace_. What ingredients did I neglect to list for Mr. Pendragon’s benefit?”

            _Benefit?!_ Arthur wanted to scream.

            “Valerian Roots, Sopophorous Bean, and Sloth Brain, of course,” she replied almost serenely as she’d handed Merlin his assignment where he sat on the other side of the classroom, and a few rows in front of Arthur. It looked like some sort of yellow square of paper stuck to it with again what looked to be Gwen’s writing with a little smiley face beneath it. 

            Ohhh but what Arthur _really_ noticed was that _blasted_ “of course”. So smug, so superior, so “choke on this Arthur”.

            And then, the real _coup de grace_.

             “Ladies and gentlemen, while I’m sure you are all aware, this is Morgana Pendragon and she will be my Junior Student Assistant—you will find her available during all hours I hold class for first through third year students. She has also seen fit to offer her guidance during my own office hours, which you will find within your syllabi—those lovely sheets of parchment Miss Pendragon thoughtfully placed on your desks before you arrived. Did you settle the days you are available with your _petite_ _amie_ Miss Pendragon?”

            Morgana had finished passing out assignments and was now sitting herself primly at a small desk that was adjacent to the professor's own work desk at the head of the room. She pulled out a scroll and placed what looked like a first-year potions book off to the side as she let the scroll fall open before she smoothed it against the desk and picked up the quill that was resting in an inkwell, ready for her use.

            “Yes, Professor,” she said, looking to him for further instruction.

            The Professor motioned to her as if to give her the floor, while he stalked around the room like an opponent looking for the weakest link within his pack of students.

            Arthur proudly adverted his gaze from his teacher, though he could feel the man staring him down as the younger Pendragon looked upon his sister as she addressed the class.

            Morgana seemed perfectly at ease as she spoke, though she didn’t look at the class as she addressed them—she busied herself marking off something on the scroll, which Arthur decided must be an attendance sheet as she marked with certainty for a time, but occasionally looked up to scan the faces of her audience before marking again.

            “I will be available in Professor Snape’s office during his hours on Mondays, and then Wednesdays through Fridays. However, if any of you see me in the halls and wish to speak with me, simply pull me aside and if I have the time I’ll certainly speak with you then—if I do not, we will schedule something for later.” She looked at the Professor then as if asking if she could continue, to which he nodded, so she did; “I am in Ravenclaw, so feel free to come by the common-room anytime you have need. If you cannot find me, my girlfriend Gwen will be more than happy to either assist you herself if she can, or help you find me, or pass along your name and House if I am wholly unavailable at the time.” She rolled up the scroll tightly before wrapping a thick velvety band around its center and pressing a thin golden Hogwarts seal on it to hold the band in place. She looked up them, and said with what Arthur knew was sincerity—in fact what she was going to say was something that made her the sister Arthur begrudgingly loved and respected.

           “I was a first year just a few months ago. Hogwarts can be quite the adjustment for anyone. When I offer my assistance I do not mean only in Potions. It is an open invitation; should you need any advice, or find yourself just needing someone to talk to, or even someone to share the occasional meal with, you may come to me at any time. Guinevere Smith—Gwen, has asked that I offer her assistance in those matters as well. She is Muggle-born,” Morgana said, and quiet whispers circulated the classroom as she did, especially amongst the Slytherins, but Morgana continued on as if her announcement hadn’t caused any fuss at all, “should any of you need such a perspective, she’s more than willing to give it. Professor.”

           “Very good, Miss Pendragon,” Professor Snape said, nodding as he stepped up to the large chalkboard at the front of the room. Off to his side, Morgana had risen from her seat after whispering a spell that made the attendance scroll poof from her hands and to wherever such documentation went, and she went to the Professor’s potion station and began setting up a cauldron and placing ingredients out before she began brewing while the Potions Master instructed.

           Arthur found himself rather distracted though, his head was filled with angry thoughts about how this whole class session was going. 

           But part of his mind was quiet. The part that was him, watching Merlin Emrys who’s every expression he could see from the angle the smaller boy was sitting at. Merlin wasn’t looking at the Professor scrawl out ingredients and instructions for whatever they were going to brew their next session, no. Merlin was watching, seemingly amazed as Morgana brewed. Arthur didn’t see what was so special—yes she was using her wand to apply charms when the recipe called for it, and to make the ingredients around her dance around the table until she needed them (and then of course the needed ingredient would sashay into the palm of her hand where it would fall limp so she could drop it into the cauldron without her unnecessary magic causing the thing to blow the classroom to Chelsea and back). All of the show was highly uncalled for, but Arthur suspected she wouldn’t have done it usually, except he could tell she knew Merlin (as well as a few rattled first-years) was watching as she let the ingredients put on a little show for him. And it was rather good of her, Arthur thought in this quite place in his mind. Merlin had been looking rather ill when the Professor had asked him questions he couldn’t answer, but now he looked at ease and even a bit care-free as he watched the older girl brew.

           This quiet part of his mind grew, spread, silencing his angry thoughts until they were far in the back of his mind, and he unknowingly spent the rest of his first potions lesson watching Merlin Emrys enjoy his self.

* * *

 

           Arthur would have been shaking with excitement if his father wouldn't have found the act distasteful.

           They were going to _fly_.

           Students stood in a grassy area on the school grounds, the Slytherin and Hufflepuffs lined up in separate rows while Madam Hooch paced between their ranks, quietly regarding her young students before calling out instructions on how, exactly, one summons their broom to their command.

           This would have been bearable, had she let them do more than merely straddle their brooms and _prepare_ to take flight. Not actually fly, but simply practice _thinking_ about flying.

           Merlin Emrys—who Arthur certainly _was not_ paying attention to, you bite your tongue!—had gone rather pale at the prospect of flight but seemed to be regaining his color since he'd come to the realization that they weren't actually going to fly. Not today anyway. Or anytime within this next century it seemed to Arthur, seeing how that woman was going on about nothing. Again, Leon opted to stand beside Merlin, but Arthur guessed that made sense as they were separated by House. He did, however, feel put out by the fact that Arthur had greeted Leon like usual—big smile,  a wave, and calling out to his friend—whereas Leon had barely made eye-contact with Arthur and gave him a subdued nod.

           Arthur's attention was taken off of that, however, once the captain of Gryffindor's Qudditch team approached.

           Morgause. Arthur saw how a few of the male classmates looked at her; some of them grinning stupidly while others stealing a glance before they blushed and looked away. She was beautiful, and more importantly—a Qudditch Captain. A Quidditch Captain who had some affiliation with Arthur's sister, as he'd learned just the other night when he went to speak with her but she was too busy having some kind of meeting with the seventh-year in the second year Ravenclaw dormitory. Now she was going to be involved with their first flying lesson? This, Arthur could use to his advantage.

           "An alumni of Hogwarts has made it known that there are those of you who already know how to properly use a broom," Madam Hooch announced, "Uther Pendragon requested that Gryffandor's Qudditch Captain see to it that you are appropriately challenged even on your first day of flying lessons here, as you've considerably more experience in comparison to those among us who are beginners."

           This news brought on both a feeling of excitement and that of dread in Arthur Pendragon. This was something his father was doing for him, and it meant he could show off his flying skills to perhaps impress Morgause so much she either adds him to Gryffindor team or…worst case scenario…at least recommends him to whoever captained the Hufflepuff team (though Arthur did fanaticize that perhaps if Morgause requested his presence on Gryffindor team, Headmaster Dumbledore might be swayed to allow Arthur to be resorted). On the flip side, this meant that Arthur's father was actively in contact with Hogwarts administration—he had no intention of ever telling his father he'd been so grossly missorted into Hufflepuff. Firstly, he was determined to be resorted no matter the cost, and secondly, if he couldn't be resorted he'd already prepared letters to Owl later, to order maroon-and gold ties, and stark black robes with the Gryffindor crest, which he'd wear home when holidays came around. He had minimal access to a vault set up by his father in Arthur's name—but he was certain he could withdrawal enough Galleons to have the secret of this House debacle well kept among school administration, and to have them send things such as progress reports on parchment signed by Professor McGonagall along with the Gryffindor seal.

           "Is there a reason you're attention is elsewhere than my lecture?" Madam Hooch's voice brought Arthur out of his thoughts, he looked up quickly, about to respond with some quick, charming apology, only to find that she was speaking instead to Merlin and Leon who appeared to have been worriedly whispering to one another.

           "Sorry, Madam Hooch," Merlin said.

           "I really do apologize, Madam Hooch," Leon added sincerely, giving his instructor a slight bow.

           Madam Hooch returned her attention to the rest of the assembly, "Now. As I was saying, those of you who have flown before, please feel free to follow Miss LaFey down to the Quidditch Pitch. Those new to flying will stay here with me to learn the basics."

           Arthur immediately stepped forward to join Morgause. He watched Merlin shoot Leon a panicked look, and Leon rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze before Merlin stepped forward alongside a few other Slytherins, Leon following in suit, to go with Morgause. A few Hufflepuffs lined up behind Arthur, and though he'd never admit it, he was silently impressed that Temperance—Timothy, whatever their name was—joined the group as well.

           Though mostly, the fact that he was joined by Hufflepuffs annoyed him. But that was because…well…they're Hufflepuffs.

           "Very good, very good, I think I see some familiar features among you lot—I know lots of your older brothers and sisters," Morgause said, smiling pleasantly at those gathered. She looked to those who hadn't joined them. "Don't worry, Madam Hooch is an excellent teacher—she'll have you all up in the air in no time. And, should any of you advance at a quicker pace than most of your peers, you're more than welcome to join us at a later date."

           "Very good Miss LeFay, be sure to dismiss them than the top of the hour—no sooner, nor later," Madam Hooch instructed.

           "Of course Madam Hooch," Morgause replied politely, "Come along then," she said to the first-years gathered around her before she turned on her heel and began the walk down the slope of the path to the Quidditch Pitch.

           Arthur followed her closely, he wanted to walk alongside Merlin and Leon, but they hung back in the midst of the crowd, and Arthur was trying to make an impression. Though his stomach knotted as he walked, and his face felt clammy. Everything had to go perfectly. He thought walking in the front would show his confidence in his flying abilities, make him more noticeable as he would be the first student in her line of sight when they descended upon the pitch and turned to face them. But what if it made him seem too eager? He wanted to look like the most promising student—but he didn't want to look like he _wanted_ to look like the most promising student.

           Does that make sense?

           Well, whatever the consequences, they would have to be borne, as he certainly wasn't going to back down from his decision. He was a Pendragon, and Pendragon's see things through. Full stop.

           So, Arthur Pendragon walked with the grace and swagger his father imbued in him, and stayed the course.

           The pitch was empty, and as they entered it Arthur was overcome with this almost holy feeling like he'd entered a place of worship, his every cell ignited in anticipation. He would play on this pitch someday, someday soon, and it is here he would achieve greatness—in the eyes of his peers, and in the eyes of his father.

           That in and of itself was a happy thought—father was always so busy running Camelot (both the estate and his multi-billion dollar wizarding industry)—but if Arthur could make it into any spot on a Quidditch team, father would come see him play.

           So. He'd better get this awful Hufflepuff debacle sorted out soon.

           Morgause turned about shortly after they stepped onto the pitch, and continued walking backwards as she led them to the center of the pitch, addressing their group as she walked.

           "Now, don't be nervous—while this group will start off ahead of the others, that doesn't mean we'll be performing Double Eight Loops, or Wronski Defensive Feint's. This isn't Quidditch, and you're all first years—this class will only get as advanced as you make it. Do your best—don't strive to out-do your fellow classmates--and most importantly, _play nice_ ," She stopped once she hit the center of the pitch. "If anyone causes harm to another under my watch I will not hesitate to throw you out on your ear. Is that clear?"

           A series of "Yes"s came from the group of first-years.

           "Yes ma'am," Arthur promised.

          "Good. Now, let's see," she said as she scanned the group's faces. "Leon McKay, I know your older sister, Glenda. How is she doing now that she's graduated?"

           "Very well, thank you for asking," Leon replied politely. "She's got a job at the Ministry now. Financial department—numbers and the like—she loves it."

           "Good, good, I'm glad," Morgause said, smiling as she moved on. "Ahh, Merlin Emrys. It is…wonderful to see you again—I trust you're well?" she asked, mildly concerned at the boy's pale features.

_Wait, what? When was Merlin chatting up Gryffandor's Quidditch Captain?_ Arthur thought.

           But whatever prior meeting they'd had must have gone over horrendously with the sweet soft-spoken boy because the tone he used caught Arthur off guard it was so _cold._

           "I'm just fine," Merlin said shortly, meeting her gaze with one that could freeze embers.

_Sweet Merlin_. _Or, well, in this case, not so sweet Merlin,_ Arthur mused.

          "I'm glad to hear it," Morgause returned neutrally, unfazed by the young boy's tone as she carried on, asking for the names of those she didn't recognize, and saying 'hallo' to the ones she did.

           "Arthur Pendragon," Morgause said at last, looking at the reluctant-Hufflepuff boy, "a pleasure to meet you—your father is the alumni who wrote me in regards to flying lessons," she paused, her gaze assessing. "Though I can't imagine why he'd write me, and not Hufflepuff's Quidditch Captain."

           For a moment Arthur was awash with the feeling like…like Morgause had just stormed his castle, ripped through the guards, and thrown down the gauntlet of challenge at his feet.

           Of course that was ridiculous, but none the less Arthur returned the challenge in like.

           "My father _is_ a former Gryffindor," Arthur responded. "He's far more inclined to offer such a new and advantageous position to a current Gryffindor. A nice addition to your school records, is it not?"

           Which of course meant— _take my father's generosity and keep your little nose out of it_.

           "It is, how very kind of him," Morgause replied. "Well, now that we all know each other, let's get started, shall we? Line up."

            Arthur took a firm stance just before Morgause, which told everyone else to form a line alongside him, to stand side by side facing their instructor.

           "Brooms ready," she said, turning her back to them and seating herself on her own broom.

           Arthur straddled his broom and bent his knees, ready to take off when she gave the order.

           "We're going to start off with just a few laps around the pitch—you lot will take off first and I will follow, I'll be flying rather high—do not match my height, stay at least three meters below me at all times. I'm only flying at such a height to better watch how you all handle your brooms. When I blow my whistle, loop around once more before landing. If you find yourself in distress I will help you. If you're certainly uncertain simply land or allow yourself to fall from your broom, once we're in the air I'll cast cushioning charms all across the field just in case—they will be removed as soon as I blow the whistle. We need firm ground for proper take off and landing. Are we ready?"

           "Yes ma'am," all the students said.

           "Fly!"

           Arthur didn't need to be told twice. He immediately pushed off of the ground and into the air, his magic thrumming through his broom as he soared ahead of his classmates and began leading them in laps around the Quidditch Pitch.

           Merlin, he noticed as he looped around once more, was still on the ground—well him and Leon, though Leon could fly _almost_ as well as Arthur could so he was merely staying with Merlin, but why the young Emrys was taking so long, Arthur had no clue. It wasn't until Arthur had completed his third lap that Merlin made his wobbly ascent into the air, Leon steadfastly flying alongside him. A flash of magic coated the ground and Arthur looked up to see Morgause pocketing her wand.

           "You lot are doing just fine—I'll be right back, stay the course, I'll still be watching you," Morgause called out over them, and then went to land. Arthur watched as she landed at the edge of the pitch. He was confused why she'd need to stop flying until he saw she was meeting Professor Snape, who stood at the Pitch entrance, arms crossed over chest, waiting impatiently for the Gryffindor girl to meet him. She went up to him, and held her wand out as if explaining something about it before crossing her arms over her chest as they talked, her wand in the hand tucked between opposite arm and her side.

           That was fine though. Merlin seemed to be the worst flyer out of all of them but he stayed out of the way, and Leon was at his side.

           It Arthur's fourth loop around the pitch when things grew rather dire on his end.

           A feeling of terror coursed through his body as foreign magic took hold of his broom. He cried out in surprise and gripped his broom tightly as the broom began rocking wildly and swinging to and fro. Morgause wasn't watching them—her back was to the Pitch as she conversed with Professor Snape, who at Arthur's cry looked up and stared at the boy—though he made no effort whatsoever to assist him, not even a "Oh look Morgause, a child under your watch is about to be thrown from his broom".

           Arthur was about to let go and drop to the ground when a voice in his mind cried out.

_DON'T! IT'S NOT SAFE!_

           Was that _Merlin's_ voice he'd just heard? What on earth kind of sense is this? He let go of his broom, and prepared to drop and roll, but just as he slid from his seat he felt a body crash into his own, and arms flailing to wrap around his torso as the other person turned their body towards the ground, to be beneath Arthur as the pair crashed harshly into the earth below.

           The two rolled a bit after the impact and Arthur ended up with his back on the ground, and none other than Merlin Emrys on top of him, features taut with pain and panting, gasping for air.

           But before Arthur could even consider the fact that Merlin might be hurt, he was shoving the boy off of him and shouting angrily into his face, "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" as he rose to his feet and stood firmly over the raven haired boy.

           Firmly.

           There was no give in the earth beneath his feet, no cushiony feeling as if he were walking on thick, fluffy pillows.

           His body felt torn in two directions. On the one, he wanted to remain facing Merlin and ask if he was alright, and on the other he wanted to turn towards Morgause and shout something unfortunate about her underdeveloped magical skills and the fact that she'd so stupidly allowed a bunch of first years to fly thinking they were safe if they fell when in truth they would be falling to their deaths.

           He didn't have to turn to do that though—Morgause had raised her wand to unnecessarily cancel out the spell she'd cast before, and  was already storming across the pitch, eyes wide with worry and anger as she approached the two boys, whistle at her lips as she signaled the others to land.

           "What is going on over here?!" Morgause shouted at the two of them. "What did I say about playing nicely? Arthur Pendragon, I'm surprised at you. I didn't expect you of all people to start trouble in my class."

           "I didn't!" Arthur insisted at the same time that Merlin cried out: "He didn't!"

           "Oh I'm sorry, but from where I'm standing you not only caused another student to crash, but then pushed him to the ground and began screaming abuse at him, am I mistaken?" Morgause asked critically.

           "This isn't Arthur's fault," Merlin said as he gingerly rose to his feet, wincing a bit as he continued, "I'm the one that knocked into him, he was just reacting."

           "What about you?" Arthur snapped at Morgause, "You were supposed to be watching, but when my broom gets cursed all to hell and I have to drop, you're nowhere to be found? AND WHAT THE HELL KIND OF CUSHIONING SPELL DID YOU EVEN USE? Because there _certainly wasn't_ one. Maybe instead of _yelling_ at us you should have us sent to the infirmary."

         "What are you talking about?" she asked as she whipped out her want once more and began casting diagnostic spells. Morgause drew in a sharp breath and paled as she bent down, onto her knees to examine the two boys more closely, hands grasping their chins as she looked for signs of injuries. She stood after a moment and turned to address the whole class, "I'm afraid class is over for now. I do not know when next we will do this as the pitch must be examined and respelled before we try this again, it seems any magic casted upon its physical boundaries do not work."

           "I don't know _if_ you'll hold be holding another session," Madam Hooch's voice cried out as the elder Witch approached them, her students in tow as they entered the pitch. She came to stand with Morgause and looked down at Merlin and Arthur. "This is abhorrent behavior for a class such as this. Do you realize how easily you could have been killed?" she lectured, "And screaming at your instructor, that's very poor manners, I expected more from you Arthur Pendragon. I could hear your caterwauling from across school grounds. Detention tonight, straight after dinner," she said.

           Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat and clinched his fists as he said, "Yes ma'am," he looked to Morgause, "I do apologize for my behavior, Miss LaFey," he said, his tones neutral and automatic—the apology was more of an expected thing than something he was genuinely giving.

           No matter what these people said, Arthur Pendragon _did_ have manners.

           "And you, Mr. Emrys," Madam Hooch said, "I don't know how things work where you come from, but here at this school we do not crash into our classmates at breakneck speeds and throw them into the ground. It's rather frowned upon actually. If you have some problem with Mr. Pendragon then I trust you'll work it out together in detention—you have it as well. You'll report at 7 sharp this evening to Mr. Filch."

           "But Merlin didn-" Arthur began, but he was stopped by Merlin saying.

           "Yes Madam Hooch, I'm sorry, really," he said, looking only at Madam Hooch, pointedly ignoring Morgause as to communicate he most certainly wasn't apologizing to her before he turned to Arthur. "I'm sorry for crashing into you like that. It was erm…very rude."

           Arthur wasn't sure how to respond to that. What was he supposed to say? _"Yes, how dare you save my life, that's so very rude"_? _"I accept your apology; please do let me fall to my death the next time you see I'm in danger_ "? The boy seemed to not want Arthur to interfere with his detention, so he merely nodded and remained silent.

           Madam Hooch sighed wearily. "Class is dismissed. Miss LeFay, if you would be so kind, do please walk these boys to the infirmary would you? Mr. Emrys looks rather peaky, and it was a rather hard fall it seems. The pitch, your ability as an instructor, and your students will all be reexamined before I decide if such a lesson will be taught again."

           "Yes, Madam Hooch. I understand," Morgause said, and then turned to look at the boys. "Come along then. You can both walk, I trust?" The boys nodded. "I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey. She's the school Medi-Witch."

           "I know who she is. We don't need you to walk us to the infirmary—I know the way," Merlin stated, staring Morgause down as if in challenge.

           Morgause cleared her throat. "I understand, Merlin. Really, I do. If you aren't truly certain of the way, but would rather someone else take you I can arrange that."

           "I know. The way, that is."

           "Very well," Morgause conceded. "Feel better. Arthur, say 'Hello' to your sister for me, would you?"

           "Of course," Arthur promised, though he wasn't sure if she heard him as she was already walking away.

           "Come on," Merlin said, "we should make sure you weren't hurt in the fall."

           "Me?" Arthur asked as the two began walking towards the exit, to the castle. Merlin lead Arthur though the smaller boy was walking with a limp. On Arthur's part, his back was a bit sore, and his right arm smarted a bit, but that would be easily taken care of. "You're the one that hit the ground hardest, with my arse on top of you no less. You…" Arthur grew quiet for a moment as he tried to find words, "I mean, you saved me. Again." If you count sewing crests onto robes as saving a person. In Arthur's book though, that qualified.

           "Yeah, well. That's my job."

           "Your job? _I_ certainly didn't hire you," Arthur said.

           "You didn't have to." Merlin grinned.

* * *

 

 


End file.
